Biohazard
by ObsydianDreamer
Summary: When a hostile alien race releases an unstoppable virus upon Earth, turning ordinary people into flesh-eating monsters, the surviving Avengers find themselves in a fight for their lives as they struggle to live and find a cure.
1. War

AN: Finally posting this after working on it since July 2012. Hope people like it!

Disclaimer: I do not own the Avengers or Transformers.

**Part One: Biohazard**

**Chapter One: War**

By ObsydianDreamer

* * *

[Steve]

It was a quiet day like any other in New York City. For the Avengers, this meant relaxing in the recreation room of the newly completed Avengers Tower. Tony, who had designed the building himself, had spared no expense.

The huge building had individual floors for all members of the Avengers and even one for Coulson. The tower also had everything they would need, with gyms, communications rooms and science labs. It had a few things that they probably didn't need as well; including a multi-floor laser tag arena and a pool which Tony had adamantly insisted on keeping.

So there they all were, in the recreation room of the great Avengers Tower, each peacefully doing their own thing. Clint and Natasha were sitting at the table, sifting through piles of profiles, looking for new SHIELD recruits. Natasha looked utterly bored, and Clint had given up completely, leaning back in his chair and playing some kind of game on one of the small wireless devices.

Thor, meanwhile, was rummaging through the adjacent kitchen, searching for a snack. His appetite was the biggest of them all, and he easily and regularly ate everything they had. Thus, restocking the kitchen was often a priority.

Tony and Bruce were discussing something to do with science. What exactly, Steve wasn't sure about. He picked up random parts of their conversation; "Gamma spectroscopy" this, and "Quantum string theory" that. Confused, Steve turned his attention back to the book he was half-heartedly reading. Despite having missed out on decades while frozen in the ice, Steve was in no rush to catch up; instead, he thought, he'd do it when he was ready. Putting the book aside, Steve settled down on a couch situated near one of the massive glass windows and gazed out at the city below. After a minute he closed his eyes, only feeling the warm rays of the sun through the window glass.

It was comforting.

How long he stayed like that he wasn't sure, but he was shaken from his trance when a very worried looking Maria Hill barged into the room. She was flustered, her cheeks tinged red and her breath short.

"You're all needed in the communications room," She said urgently. "There's a situation."

Without another word they all got up and followed her out of the room, and to one of the elevators at the end of the hall.

"What's happened?" Steve asked. He'd never seen the agent so tense before; whatever had happened, it couldn't be good.

"SWORD just received a message from deep space. It's from a hostile alien race. The address is getting transmitted to the communications room as we speak," She replied, pushing the button on the elevator, closing the doors.

"Wait a moment. What's SWORD?" Bruce asked, curiously.

"Sentient World Observation and Response Department. It's a subsection of SHIELD that deals with aliens. Established after the Chitauri invasion." Maria replied. The elevator door slid open and Maria walked ahead, scanning her ID to open the doors to the communications room.

Until that moment, Steve hadn't been in the room yet. It was a huge hall, filled with technology he didn't fully understand yet. It had rows and rows of the "computers" that Tony had once tried to teach him to use, but to limited success. On the left side wall, were a series of large monitor screens. At that moment, three of the screens were in action; one was showing Nick Fury, who was back at the main SHIELD base, one that said NEST headquarters, but wasn't currently operational, and the other showed the broadcasted message of the alien.

Steve had never seen anything like it before.

The alien looked like it was made of metal and machines, all twisting, locking and joining together to form a face. In some ways it resembled Tony's Iron Man suit, except it was much more rusted and damaged. It had two ruby-red eyes that glowed, and half of its face was blown off.

"What is that?" Steve not-so-quietly asked Maria Hill. Surprisingly, it was Thor who answered.

"A cybertronian. They were a once-proud race of metal men. They're not of the Nine Realms, but we used to be on good terms with them until their civil war. There are few of them left now," Thor stated, and pointed to the cybertronian on the screen before continuing. "His name is Megatron, and he started the civil war when his brother was named their leader instead of him."

Steve expected Thor to continue with the story, but instead he stopped talking and seemed to turn rather melancholy. Realising that a very similar thing happened between Thor and Loki, Steve decided not to press the issue any further, turning his attention to the screen where Nick Fury was about to speak.

"Let's skip to the point, since we already know who and what you are. What do you want this time?" Fury said, his voice clear through the speakers.

"It's simple," The cybertronian said. The voice sounded somehow familiar to Steve, but he couldn't be sure where from; it unsettled him. "Hand over control of earth's resources, or we begin our attack."

"No," Nick Fury replied, his voice was strong and clear, and not worried the slightest bit. "We've defeated you before. Mission City. Egypt. We even have a Special Forces division dedicated to stopping you, in case you haven't noticed, that even has members of your own species determined to defeat you."

"The Autobots are of little concern," The cybertronian replied. "They can be dealt with easily. This is your last chance, insects. Surrender, or else."

"I'd seriously reconsider your plan, Mega-man, or whatever Thor said your name was," Tony cut in. "Not only is half your race against you, but you've also got the military, and most importantly, us, against you. The Chitauri tried, they failed, what honestly makes you think you've got a chance?"

"Insolent little insect!" the cybertronian snarled. "You claim that your planet's champions will defend it, but you inferior flesh creatures are not prepared for the warfare we bring!"

Everyone in the room suddenly became very nervous. What kind of warfare were they not ready for? Before Tony could say anything else, Natasha pulled him back and told him, very explicitly, to keep quiet.

"If you attack us, we will fight," Nick Fury said angrily. "We are prepared and we will respond aggressively to any hostiles!"

The cybertronian chuckled.

"I was hoping you'd say that." The cybertronian replied. "So be it. Prepare for warfare unlike anything you've faced before." The transmission from the aliens cut off very suddenly, leaving the entire room in silence.

"Coulson, Hill, get the satellite feed to the NEST headquarters in Chicago up and running and relay the transmission," Nick Fury ordered, before turning towards the team. "Also, you guys might wanna suit up."

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**AN: Hey guys! Thanks for reading! Just a few things:**

**Please review. If you liked it, review and tell me what you liked. If you hated it, review and tell me why. If you have constructive criticisms, please review, so my writing can get better. **

**Also, I won't be filing this under crossovers ****_just yet_****. I will eventually, when the cybertronians become more central characters. Until then, since they're only mentioned, I'll be keeping this under Avengers.**

**Thanks to my beta readers Baylee Shadow and Tanya Meridia.**


	2. Weapon

AN: Really short chapter. I also fixed a few punctuation typos in chapter one that some reviewers pointed out.

Disclaimer: I do not own Avengers.

**Chapter Two: Weapon**

By ObsydianDreamer

* * *

{Natasha}

Without a moment's hesitation, the group rushed off to prepare themselves for the imminent alien invasion. Putting on her specially designed body suit and reloading her guns, Natasha quickly re-joined the rest of the group in the war room as they waited for the news of the alien attack.

They waited.

And waited.

_And waited._

But, surprisingly, no such attack came. It made them all tense, never being able to relax or sleep properly in case the attack happened while they were off-duty. It especially unnerved Natasha, having fought numerous types of aliens before. In her general experience, the plan that planet-conquering alien warlords tended to deploy was to attack en-masse, attempting to overwhelm the defences of the military and Special Forces. That was what they always did.

Except this time. Over a month after the transmission, nothing out of the ordinary had happened. What were the aliens doing? Preparing weapons? Assembling an army?

"Maybe they changed their minds," Clint suggested one day, as they talked, just the two of them. They didn't get to do this much anymore; their jobs at SHIELD and duties with the Avengers kept them busy most of the time. Clint continued. "Realised what they were dealing with and went the other way."

"I don't think so," Natasha replied. "That doesn't sound like something they'd do. They'll probably attack us with some kind of advanced alien technology when we've got our guard down."

"Maybe. Hopefully not," He paused, and looked at her. She still looked unconvinced. "Jeez, Nat, you're always so negative!"

"That's because the worst always tends to happen," Natasha muttered, but before Clint could say anything back, their communicators buzzed with a message from Coulson.

"Agents Barton and Romanoff, report to the war room quickly. Something's happened."

Without waiting another moment, Natasha and Clint rushed off to the war room. When they arrived, they found the others already there, waiting. With all of them there, Nick Fury addressed them.

"A series of unidentified space objects have landed in all major cities," Fury said. He nodded to Coulson, who turned on all the screens. They showed different news programs; every channel seemed to be broadcasting the event. One report even had a close up look at one of the alien pods.

They were perfectly spherical in shape, with strange symbols, similar to hieroglyphs, covering the sides. The metal they were made of was blue-grey and incredibly shiny, glistening in the sun. Around the girth of the pod was a series of blinking lights, currently flashing green. Natasha didn't recognise what they were; they weren't big enough to be Cybertronians, and they definitely didn't look like the weapons they traditionally used.

"Chicago, Washington, Los Angeles, just to name a few," Nick Fury continued, pointing to the screens. "We have NEST and SWORD trying to figure out what they are, and SHIELD running evac."

"Could they be bombs?" Steve asked sombrely.

"They could be. I need you all to get ready and be prepared to mobilise," Nick Fury ordered, but before they could all leave, the screens showed the pods starting to activate.

The shiny pods broke open, and four spikes shot out and into the ground, cementing the pods in place. The top of the pod popped up and began to spin wildly, while jets of a strange, green liquid started gushing out. The liquid quickly spread out, and seemed to evaporate on contact with the air; most of the liquid dissipated into the air, with small amounts spilling into the drains.

The group just stood there, watching in silence. After the last puddles of liquid had evaporated or leaked away, the pods stopped spinning, and the lights decorating the pods started flickering faster and turning red. Suddenly, Natasha realised what was happening.

"They're detonating it!" She exclaimed. She should have known this would be their plan! She'd seen firsthand the destruction their weapons could cause, and even lost teammates to them. But now, all they could do is hope that people had been evacuated far enough away to survive.

To the team's surprise, and relief, the pod did indeed detonate, but much less spectacularly than anyone had expected. Rather than making a huge explosion, the pod just folded in on itself and burned away to nothing.

Something wasn't right.

Although Natasha was thankful that the pod didn't explode and cause a lot of destruction, this new development unnerved her completely. Bombs made by advanced alien races didn't just crumble and break, not like that.

"Well. That failed," Tony said, with relief that almost the whole team shared.

Natasha, meanwhile, wasn't so sure.

0-0-0-0-0-0

**AN: Just a short chapter. The chapters should start getting steadily longer.**

**Also, how Awesome was Iron Man 3?! I was lucky enough to see it at the first midnight screening, and again a week later. I'll have to admit, I didn't expect the Mandarin to be like that...**

**(I should probably mention that this fic takes place after the Avengers movie, and as such any movies set after that will not be included)**

**Please, please review! I need feedback! Also, Thanks to Lily Icerem, Sniisawesome, Flavumetrubrum and OzzieLiber-Tea who all reviewed last chapter.**

**Thanks for reading!**

**~ObsydianDreamer**


	3. Virus

AN: Thank you to OzzieLiber-Tea who reviewed last chapter! Now, we're up to the part where things start to become interesting...

Disclaimer: I do not own the Avengers.

**Chapter Three: Virus**

By ObsydianDreamer

* * *

[Clint]

"You were right," Clint whispered to Natasha as they overlooked the city from the balcony of the Avengers Tower. She'd mentioned that something wasn't quite right when the alien pods failed to explode, and unfortunately her insight had proved correct.

The alien pods turned out to not be bombs, or any type of weapon at all. They were just carriers, transporting the real weapon hidden inside.

A virus.

The green liquid released by the pod contained an alien disease, which humans had no immunity to. Making things worse was the fact that the liquid had spread into waterways and into the air; people were becoming sick in record amounts. Within only a few hours after the pods had crashed, thousands were turning up to hospitals, with odd and deadly symptoms that no one was able to treat.

In response to the development, SHIELD put together a response team and the Avengers Tower was being used as a base of operations. The very best virologists and microbiologists from all around the country were being brought in, to try and figure out a cure. Strangely though, the virus wasn't spreading like they predicted it would. Only those exposed to the liquid initially had caught the disease.

Nevertheless, something had to be done, and soon; those infected were dying and others were starting to panic.

"I didn't want to be," Natasha replied, interrupting his thoughts. "Come on, Fury needs us."

The two of them met up with Nick Fury and headed to the science division, where a scientist named Annabelle Watson was apparently making amazing progress with her research into the virus. Arriving at the lab where she worked, Clint typed in the security code and entered, Natasha and Fury not far behind.

"...that vial for me?" a woman called out to someone who was in the back part of the lab. The place was cluttered; stacks of papers and notes littered the floor, and whiteboards full of formulas lined the walls. The scientist herself was working feverishly over a microscope in the corner of the lab, scribbling down notes in an illegible scrawl as she did.

"Interesting..." she mumbled to herself, before realising she had company. Straightening herself up and tidying her hair, she introduced herself.

"Oh, hi," The scientist said, informally. "I'm Doctor Annabelle Watson, one of the virologists."

"I'm Director Nick Fury, and this is Clint Barton and Natash-" Fury began, but he was interrupted by a familiar voice.

"Here's the vial, Annabel-" Bruce said, cutting off his sentence in surprise when he realised that Clint, Natasha and Nick Fury were there. Handing Annabelle the vial, he re-joined the others.

"You two know each other?" Clint couldn't help but ask. Bruce rarely talked about his life before "The Other Guy" and he never kept company other than the team.

"She's an old acquaintance of mine," Bruce replied, not elaborating any further.

"Same University," Annabelle added. She looked like she was going to say something more, before Nick Fury cut in.

"If we can please get back on topic," It was obvious that his patience was short. "Dr. Watson, what are we dealing with?"

"A virus, but unlike anything I've seen before," Annabelle started, opening the lid on the laptop next to her as she spoke. "We've nick-named it the _Requiem Virus_, and we've been studying a few of the infected, back at our main labs in Washington. So far, we've figured out that the virus has an incubation period of about three hours before the victims start getting sick. And when they do, it's not pretty...Here we go...some live footage from the labs."

Annabelle turned the laptop around so that the others could see the screen. It showed a large glass cell, with a young man of maybe twenty-three inside.

Except he didn't look human anymore.

The "person" in the glass cell had pale skin with a sickly green tinge, covered in bleeding sores. His eyes were completely bloodshot red, and he had the general look that he had given up, slouched like a ragdoll against the wall, with torn clothing and knotted hair.

"How can you leave a person like that?" Clint asked incredulously. The condition the man had been left in was inhumane, and it angered him a little.

"Shhh. Just watch," Was Annabelle's only reply.

At that moment, the man gave out a loud scream, which caused Natasha and Clint to flinch a little. The man went berserk; springing up and running at the glass with all the force it could muster, trying to reach the scientist on the other side of the glass. Madness had completely taken over.

"Scary, isn't it?" Annabelle whispered as they watched; Clint certainly agreed. "About six hours after the initial infection, they start going pale. At eight, those nasty-looking sores appear and they start coughing blood. By the twelfth hour, their eyes go red and they've lost all ability to think for themselves. They'll attack anything in sight."

At that moment, the infected man howled in anger at being unable to reach the person on the other side and stopped beating the glass. Furiously, it looked around, before noticing the camera in the corner of the cell and attacking it with all its force.

The video connection went dead.

Clint was worried. Did everyone infected with the virus turn like this? If they did, then they would have to deal with thousands of murderously violent people, somehow preventing them from hurting others until a cure could be found. Trying to think positively, Clint focussed on the fact that the disease couldn't spread.

"Is there anything else you've found out?" Nick Fury asked, looking slightly concerned now. "Anything that might help us?"

Annabelle Watson sighed; it was obvious that she was thinking deeply. "There is. When the first patient started getting violent, we sent in a guard to restrain him," She paused, absentmindedly taking off her glasses and wiping them with the fabric of her lab coat. "Well, the victim went crazy, and well...bit him."

"Bit him?" Nick Fury repeated.

"Yes, _bit him_. And you know what happened? Three hours later, the guard started showing all the same symptoms and signs of infection. Not long after, he was just like the others – crazy and violent. The virus is highly contagious, it spreads via blood contact."

_Highly Contagious._

Clint really was worried now. Unless a cure was somehow miraculously found within the next few hours, the streets would be overrun with mindless, violent people attacking anything, anyone in sight. And the ones who were attacked, they'd turn within a few hours as well.

Tens of thousands.

Hundreds of Thousands.

Millions.

The news must have worried Director Fury as well, because he called for all the other Avengers to come down to the lab as soon as possible.

"They need to know what we're dealing with," He explained.

"So that's what they meant," Natasha said quietly. "When they talked about warfare we weren't ready for. Biological warfare."

"Well, they were right," Annabelle stated. "The aliens are much more advanced than we are. The virus, we've tried every type of antibiotic and cure we know, but every time we try something, the strain just evolves."

"Is there any chance that you might be able to design a cure?" Fury asked Annabelle.

"Honestly, I don't know. Maybe. But before I can design a cure, I need to know how the virus works, and then design something against it. That could take weeks, months even," Annabelle replied. "The process could be sped up if I had a sample of the original virus, but the aliens ensured that was destroyed along with the pods."

Nick Fury paced around the room, deep in thought. At that moment, Steve and Tony appeared at the doors.

"You needed us?" Steve said.

"Yes. Dr. Watson, I need you to debrief them on everything you just told me, and then keeping working on understanding the virus. Barton and Romanoff, I need you over here," Annabelle nodded and began explaining the situation to Steve and Tony, while Clint and Natasha followed Fury outside the room.

"Barton, Romanoff, I need you to put a squad together. Some of the infected are starting to turn violent, and causing problems in Washington and New York."

0-0-0-0-0-0

**AN: Annabelle Watson is a random OC I created because I needed a virologist. Anyway, thanks to Tanya Meridia for Beta reading this fic.**

**And another super-big thanks to everyone who reviews/follows/favourites this story! It helps me get better at writing and it inspires me as well.**

**~ObsydianDreamer**


	4. Epidemic

AN: And things start to get interesting!

Disclaimer: I do not own the Avengers.

**Chapter Four: Epidemic**

By ObsydianDreamer

* * *

{Maria}

_"It's amazing how quickly things can go from really bad to even worse,"_ Maria thought, rather pessimistically, as she and Bruce bordered up the downstairs reception area of the Avengers Tower.

Things had spiralled completely out of control. All those infected with the Requiem Virus had fully mutated into flesh-eating monsters, chasing down anyone who wasn't the same. The stuck together in packs, mindlessly trudging around until something caught their attention.

That something was usually a passer-by who didn't even realise they were in danger until it was too late. If they were lucky, they were killed and devoured quickly. It didn't always happen like that though. Sometimes, people would escape with hideous injuries, only to be mutated and changed into another one of the bloodthirsty infected.

Maria wasn't sure which option was worse.

Not everywhere was full of the mindless killing machines, though. There were some pockets of land, usually small, where the virus had not yet reached. But the reports coming from there weren't much better; some places had descended into complete anarchy, while others shot anyone unfamiliar on sight, fearing that the newcomer carried the disease.

_"Well, at least things can't get any worse,"_ Maria thought, hoping it was true. She took a step back to admire her handiwork on the barricade; a crudely assembled wall made from broken pieces of furniture that the team had managed to scrounge from around.

Well, not the whole team. More like what was left of it.

In the chaos that followed the outbreak, the terrible, and incredibly stupid, decision to split the Avengers was made. The Board thought that it might have eased the pandemonium; having an Avenger in each major city would help reassure people. Director Fury argued that it wouldn't work, that it would only make things worse; but in the end, nothing could be done. The order was given and the Avengers were split. Thor and Steve were sent out to the west and the midlands, while Tony was sent across the country to California. Clint, Natasha and Bruce were left behind at the Avengers Tower, tasked with continuing the operation to find a cure. It was futile though; all the scientists had fled, and now only they remained.

Taking one last look at the stronghold they'd built, Bruce and Maria headed back upstairs to the communications room, where they'd been waiting for messages from the others.

"Any new developments?" Maria asked as they entered the room. Natasha was currently near a computer, trying to get a communications line going.

"No. Nothing. We still can't get through to Fury or Coulson," Natasha replied flatly, not looking up from the computer. The lack of communication was frustrating and worrying Maria, but she was determined to not let it get to her.

"Hang on...I'm getting a signal," Natasha said, sounding a little more upbeat. "From Steve!"

Natasha rerouted the signal so that it broadcasted through the speakers, before trying to speak.

"Steve, it's Natasha, can you hear me? Steve?"

The call was distorted, full of crackles and pops, with a signal that was patchy and breaking up.

_"Contacting home base...Requesting urgent back up...too many of them...breaking...-ough the..."_

The transmission cut off abruptly, leaving Bruce, Natasha, Clint and Maria in silence, too shocked and upset to do anything else.

0-0-0-0-0-0

Despite numerous attempts to re-connect the signal they couldn't get through to Steve. Natasha seemed to be getting particularly stressed, lashing out over the smallest things. The rest of the team wasn't doing much better; the conditions were making everyone edgy.

Too make matters worse, the barricade on the lowest floor was weakening. One afternoon, there was a loud crash, and the sound of wood breaking, and it was clear that a horde had broken through. They flooded in, blocking of the escape routes, hungry for flesh.

"We have to get out of here!" Maria exclaimed as Natasha, Clint and herself ran through the corridor. "Before they find us!"

"There's a fire escape we can use," Clint offered. Ignoring the sounds of the infected as they got closer, Natasha and Maria loaded their guns, while Clint readied his bow. Not waiting another moment, they made a break for the fire escape, setting off alarms as they did.

Sprinting down the winding passageway, they'd almost made it to the end when a small group of the infected blocked it off. The infected advanced on them, snarling and vicious, doing everything they could to take down the three agents. With little other option, Maria opened fire, stopping the infected and creating a path. Kicking open the door, the trio ran outside into the open, not looking back.

But Natasha stopped in her tracks.

"Wait-" Natasha started, but Maria cut her off.

"We can't stop! We don't have time!" The infected were gaining on them, any minute know they'd-

"Where's Bruce?" Natasha managed to say, her voice faint.

All three of them stopped.

He was still inside.

Suddenly, a furious roar, and an almighty crash was heard. Bruce, who must have become cornered in one of the labs, had turned Hulk, tearing through the lower floors of the Avengers Tower. The building quickly became unstable and collapsed, trapping hundreds of the infected inside, and sending a powerful wave of ash and debris through the air. The trio were sent flying backwards, landing hard on the unforgiving ground, but thankfully alive. The blast had also caught many of the infected outside the tower, their limp bodies sprawled everywhere.

The Hulk, no longer feeling threatened, went sprinting off into the distance, causing more damage to infrastructure as he went.

Maria rolled onto her stomach, still winded from the blow. Drawing in short breaths, she pushed herself up, looking around. Natasha and Clint were okay, picking themselves up off the ground.

Somehow, against all odds, the infected were still alive too. Beginning to recover, they locked their blood red eyes on the three agents.

"We'll go looking for Bruce when he's de-hulked." Maria said urgently, re-joining with Clint and Natasha. "But right now, we need to get out of here."

With little other option, the three of them fled, and went searching for somewhere safe.

0-0-0-0-0-0

By the time night had fallen, the three of them had managed to construct a makeshift bunker in the lower levels of a skyscraper. They had no lights on, trying to avoid alerting the infected to their presence, and tried desperately to contact Tony, the closest one to their location. In the meantime, they took turns keeping watch while the others slept. When Maria awoke for her turn, she found Clint perched on the balcony, overlooking the city.

From Clint's vantage point, she could see the whole town. It looked abandoned; with some buildings starting to fall apart, and electricity blacking out in the southern suburbs. The stars were also clearly visible in the cloudless sky, illuminating the night.

"I think Thor's coming," Clint said as she approached. "But something's wrong."

"How do you know?" Maria asked, filled with hope.

"I can see thunderstorms forming in the distance."

Maria scanned the horizons in every direction, but couldn't find any trace of the thunderstorm in the clear sky.

"Really? I can't see any."

"I can. I always see better at a distance," Clint said quietly. Silently, he jumped down from his perch and went to wake Natasha.

Clint turned out to be right. Less than ten minutes later, a mighty storm formed around their temporary base, filling the sky with thunder and lightning. Thor appeared, looking battle worn, with his right arm heavily bandaged.

"It is good to see you all again," Thor said, sounding tired and worn out. "Where are the others?"

"Bruce and Steve are missing," Natasha replied. "And we haven't gotten any reply from Tony since we tried to message him earlier today." She went on to describe the circumstances that lead them to where they were now.

"That is...unfortunate. I'm sorry to say this, but I'm leaving again. Very soon." Thor said, looking up to the night sky as he spoke.

"Why? We need you!" Maria said, her voice rising slightly. How could he leave now, when earth was under threat and the Avengers needed him? He couldn't just leave!

"Because I don't wish to hurt you, my friends." Thor replied, quietly. As he spoke, he unwrapped the bandage on his arm, revealing a deep bite wound. The skin around the injury had turned green, and was starting to rot away. "I just wanted to say goodbye before I left."

The silence that followed was deafening.

"We'll find a cure. I promise." Natasha finally said, breaking the silence.

"I know you will," Thor said. He looked really ill, and it was only now that Maria realised how pale he was becoming. "I have faith in you."

Thor stood up, his legs shaky. "Until then. Goodbye, my friends. Hopefully, if the fates are kind, we will meet again in better circumstances."

And with that, he cast Mjolnir toward the sky. Summoning a great bolt of lightning, he flew up and disappeared from sight.

"What do we do now?" Maria whispered. They needed the Avengers; all six of them, but now three were missing, and they couldn't keep fighting like this.

"Get in contact with Tony," Natasha replied. "We really need his help." Getting out her communicator, she tried again to contact Tony, but it was in vain. The message failed to get through.

"It's not working." Natasha said aloud, obviously getting frustrated. Clint, meanwhile, was looking from the balcony to the ground below, concentration etched on his face.

"We'll try again later," Clint suggested, his tone urgent but calm. "We need to move from here though; there's a horde massing at the bottom."

Agreeing, the trio started reloading their weapons and working on a plan.

0-0-0-0-0-0

The plan to flee the building didn't go nearly as well as planned.

While trying to leave via the back entrance, they'd severely underestimated how many of the infected were actually in the area. They were ambushed. The infected closed in on them, angry and hungry, trying to get the three agents. They readied their weapons, and fought their way through. It was violent, bloody, and during the escape Maria became separated from Clint and Natasha.

It was the middle of the night, and without the streetlights illuminating the city, Maria couldn't see her hand in front of her face. Preparing for anything, Maria pulled out her gun and held it, ready to fire at any movement. Maria found herself becoming more and more edgy as the solitude and darkness got to her; she flinched every time she heard a distant noise or saw something out of the corner of her eye. She wanted, needed, to find Clint and Natasha, but she didn't dare make a noise, fearing that it would bring something sinister her way.

Creeping her way through the dilapidated city, through the broken debris of fallen buildings and abandoned homes, Maria noticed a bright, blue light coming from where the Avengers Tower once stood. Cautiously making her way closer, she saw a single, lone figure standing amongst the wreckage.

It was Iron Man.

Tony stood there in his red and gold armour suit, his faceplate up. His arc light reactor lit up what was left of the science labs with a hazy blue light. Kneeling down, he picked something up, inspecting it closely before throwing it away.

"Welcome to the end of the world." Tony said, rather cynically, as Maria approached.

"Is that what they're calling this now?" Maria asked. Her voice couldn't hide her relief; she wasn't alone in the city anymore, and with Tony's help, they might be able to do something about the infected. "Seriously though, thank god you've arrived, Stark. We need your-"

"There's no point," Tony cut in. His voice seemed hollow. "We've already lost. We lost the second those pods entered the atmosphere."

"It's...It's...It's not over, Tony..." Maria stuttered back, shocked. This wasn't like Tony at all; she didn't know what to say.

"Maria, _it is_ over. There's nothing we can do. I received your distress signals; Steve and Bruce are missing, Thor's infected, turning violent..."

"No, It's not..." Maria couldn't say anything else.

"Listen!" Tony turned to Maria and looked her straight in the eyes. He looked distant and detached, and almost fearful. "We've lost! You hear me? Lost! We can't do anything..."

"What do we do then?" Maria demanded back to him. She was furious now. She refused to believe that the Avengers had given up.

"I don't know," He replied quietly, barely a whisper. "I don't know..."

Shaking his head, he slid his faceplate into place, the eyes lighting up. Not saying anything else, he shot up into the night sky, and flew away into the distance.

"Coward." Maria muttered under her breath. Bitterly disappointed, she continued her search through the pitch-black city for Clint and Natasha.

_"I can't believe he did that!" _Maria thought, fuming. _"Just run off and leave us in this situation!"_

She was so angry she almost didn't see the horde of infected on the other side of the road.

Almost.

There they were, a huge pack, easily over two dozen of them, scavenging through the industrial sized dumpsters. They were looking for food, and acting like animals about it; hissing at each other, fighting over whatever little scraps they could find, all while completely unaware of anything else happening around them. As two of the infected got into a particular vicious fight over a scrap of meat, others flocked around to see what was happening.

Stopping in her tracks, Maria froze.

They didn't notice her, too absorbed in their own bickering. Taking great care, Maria crept backwards slowly, not once turning her back on them, while doing her best not to alert them to her presence. She'd was almost gone, almost safe, when-

_CLANG!_

Spinning around, Maria realised that she'd collided with an empty metal trash can. Cursing herself, she turned back toward the infected, hoping that they didn't notice.

Unfortunately, they did.

Heads shot up from all over the place, the fighting over food scraps stopped, and they all went silent. They looked right at Maria, murderous looks upon their faces. Deciding that she'd make a much better meal than whatever they were managing to scrounge, they howled and charged straight at her.

Without a second to lose, Maria turned around and shot down the road, the infected not far behind. As she ran, she pulled out her handguns and fired several rounds backwards, attempting to slow them down. But no matter how many went down, they wouldn't give up.

Seeing a thin break between two buildings, Maria turned hard left, hoping to lose them. Sprinting as hard as she could, she followed a tight path as it snaked around and between the skyscrapers.

Maria was both shocked and terrified when the paths lead out to a dead end.

Not far behind her, she could hear the hisses and snarls of the infected; there was no way she could get out. Calming herself, she reloaded her handguns with her last rounds, and then positioned herself against a wall. She may have been cornered and outnumbered, but she wasn't going down without a fight.

As the infected charged through, she opened fire without remorse. The metal bullets ripped apart the rotting flesh with ease, sending them writhing to the ground, but not stopping them entirely. Moving out from behind the wall, she aimed her guns straight down the path and continued to fire.

But no matter how many of them she shot, more kept coming for her, clambering over the corpses of their fellow horde members to reach her. They were gaining ground, and getting closer as well; she could see them up close now. Their green, sore-covered skin and blood red eyes repulsed her, and she kept fighting, no longer caring whose faces she saw. The infected, the zombies, whatever they were called, they weren't humans. Not anymore.

_Click_

Maria was out of bullets.

She looked around desperately, trying to find something, _anything_, to use as a weapon, but found nothing. Meanwhile, the zombies advanced, brutal and violent as ever. One of the zombies broke apart from the horde, snarling, and went straight for her, trying to claw at her throat. She deflected the blow with her arm, before twisting its neck, sending it limp and lifeless to the ground. Unfazed by the death of their comrade, more kept attacking her, hungry for human flesh.

Cornered, with nowhere to run and no one coming to save her from the raging horde, she realised that she wouldn't live to see the sunrise.

Attempting to block another blow, her feet were kicked out from under her and she fell hard on to the ground. Taking the opportunity, the zombie advanced, grabbing her and pinning her to the ground, before taking a bite out of her shoulder, warm blood spilling everywhere.

She screamed in agony, trying to fight back, but it was futile; her head was clouded and dizzy from blood loss, and more of the horde mobbed on her and crowded her, each trying to get a piece of her flesh.

They were killing her and there was nothing she could do.

She could only hope that they would make it quick.

* * *

**AN: So, what did you think? I always value reviews; they're helpful feedback that hep me get better as a writer.**

**Thanks for reading,**

**~ObsydianDreamer**


	5. Escape

AN: Thanks to the guest who reviewed last chapter!

Disclaimer: I do not own The Avengers.

**Chapter Five: Escape**

By ObsydianDreamer

* * *

[Loki]

Locked away, inside one of Asgard's most guarded dungeons, Loki was plotting.

What for, he wasn't exactly sure. Vague ideas swirled around in his mind, plans for power, plans for revenge and retribution, and glory.

But mostly, he was just trying to think of how to escape.

He looked around the cell, frowning. It was no place for a rightful king. The cell was dark and uncomfortably chilly, with no windows to allow any daylight or warmth in. Brushing his hand against the wall, he felt the intense cold surge through his veins, numbing him. Just as his arm began to turn blue, he pulled away, not wishing to transform into a monster.

Sitting back down on his bed, he resumed planning his escape. Loki spent hours there, sitting still and calculating every single possibility and variable within his mind, until finally an idea was formed.

First of all, he'd need the Chitauri Sceptre if he wanted to actually get away from Asgard, since he no longer had his magic to depend on. The All-Father had made sure of that.

It had happened when Thor had brought him back to Asgard after the failed invasion of Midgard. Loki had been dragged before the royal court, bound and gagged like an animal, to stand trial for his crimes. He had of course been found guilty, and was sentenced by Odin to be imprisoned indefinitely in Asgard. In extension, Odin blocked his magic, preventing him from casting even the most basic of spells, saying that he would not get the ability back until he proved himself worthy to possess such a gift.

_"How am I supposed to prove myself worthy when I'm being kept in here?"_ Loki thought, bitterly. It was a strange feeling, no longer having his magic. It felt like some part of him was missing, and empty. Determined to get his powers back, Loki returned to the plan.

The sceptre was most likely hidden in the weapons vault. As soon as he could locate it, he would be able to teleport himself away from Asgard. Where to though? Most of the nine realms were either inhabitable or hostile to outsiders. He could try to flee to Vanaheim or Alfheim, but they were both on good diplomatic terms with Asgard, and would probably recapture him and send him back as soon as he got there. He refused to even think about going to Jotunheim.

That left only one choice.

Midgard.

Loki absolutely hated that place. It was the place where he was disgraced, somehow defeated by five lowly mortals and Thor. However, it was one of the largest of the realms, big enough for him to hide from the Asgardians who would inevitably be sent to search for him. Then, he would just wait until his magic returned to him.

That was his plan. He'd steal back the sceptre, teleport to Midgard, and wait until his powers returned. Perhaps even cause some mayhem and chaos for the mortals in the meantime.

But before he could do any of that, Loki would have to get out of his cell.

That was going to be the most difficult part of the escape. Standing up, he paced over to the door of the cell, to inspect it closer. The metal the bars were made of had started to corrode and rust away, but they were still far too strong to break through. Spying the lock on the other side, Loki reached around tugged on it, testing its strength. The lock was heavy and reinforced; there definitely wasn't a way it could be picked. Scowling, Loki leant on the bars, trying to think of what to do next.

"Don't even try, Twig. Jotunheim will melt before you break through that lock."

Looking up, Loki saw the two prison guards sneering at him. The two of them were both brawny and tall, and in Loki's opinion, probably not very smart. Deciding that bickering with them wasn't worth the effort, Loki was about to turn away when he noticed something shiny on the guards belt.

The keys.

Immediately turning his attention back to them, Loki thought quickly, deciding what to do next. He needed to somehow distract the guards while very carefully snatching away the keys. But how? Suddenly, Loki had an idea.

"Perhaps," Loki replied to the comment, rather casually. "About the same time you'll do something even remotely intelligent."

The guards stopped smiling and the same one who had spoken before crossed his arms and took a step closer to the cell. He obviously hadn't expected Loki to respond, much less respond with an insult.

"What did you say?" The guard said back, rather angrily.

"You didn't understand? Well, I wouldn't expect you to," Loki said, trying to sound as patronizing as possible. The guard was getting aggravated now, exactly as Loki hoped he would. "Let me simplify it for you-"

Loki didn't have time to finish the sentence; the guard had snapped, grabbing Loki by the collar roughly and pulling him up against the bars of the cell. Without taking his eyes away from the guard, Loki seized the opportunity and carefully took the keys, hiding them within his closed hand.

The furious guard, meanwhile, had no clue that the keys had just been taken.

"I dare you to say that again. Especially without your older brother to stand up for you," The guard spat out, still holding on tightly to Loki's collar. Without another word, Loki pulled himself out of the guards grip and retreated to the back of the cell, into the darkness, where the guards couldn't see him. He ignored the enraged guard as he called out insults, instead focussing his attention on the keys.

Loki couldn't help but smile as he inspected them closer; they were light in weight and rather shiny.

Now, all he had to do was wait for the perfect moment.

0-0-0-0-0-0

The perfect moment came much sooner than he'd anticipated.

Loki was sitting quietly in the corner of his cell, watching the guards as they whispered urgently about something, almost silently. From the little pieces of conversation he did hear, Loki gathered that someone important had become very ill the night before.

He wondered who it was.

Suddenly, the guards stopped talking to each other and stood up straight. Another Asgardian, who was older and presumably of a higher rank, told them to come with him; their shift was over. This happened every few hours, and was nothing out of the ordinary. However, this time the older guard seemed rather worried, talking to them about an important meeting in the Great Hall. The guards nodded, and followed him.

Leaving no one around to guard the cell.

Standing up, Loki walked to the front of the cell, smirking happily to himself. This was going to be easy.

Too easy.

Loki stopped in his tracks. It _was_ too easy. He could just walk right over, unlock the door, and walk free.

It had to be a trap.

Odin would have set it, obviously. But why? What did he have to gain from it? If he tried to escape, and got caught, that could give Odin enough reason to make his punishment more severe. But knowing the All Father, that wouldn't be his goal.

Maybe it wasn't a trap after all.

_"Perhaps The All-Father is becoming too trusting in his old age. He must think I would not try to escape,"_ Loki thought. Deciding that taking his chance to escape was worth the risk of being captured and possibly banished, Loki cautiously stepped to the cell door. Taking out the keys, he tried each one of them in the lock, until he heard a faint _Click_ noise. Gently pushing on the door, it swung open, creaking as it did so. Looking down both sides of the hallway to ensure no one had seen him, Loki stepped out, shutting the cell door behind him, before stopping for a moment to think.

He'd broken out of the cell, but he still had to get to Midgard. And for that, he'd need the sceptre.

_"The weapons vault,"_ Loki thought, recalling the layout of Asgard. _"To the south of the prisons..."_

Turning to the right, Loki sprinted down the corridor as quietly as possible. He had no idea how long he had before they'd discover that he was missing. Seeing a staircase in front of him, he climbed them quickly, pausing at the top to see if anyone was coming.

No one was.

He kept moving.

Navigating his way out of the labyrinth of rooms and corridors that was the prison of Asgard, Loki crept outside and hid behind the back of the building. It was bright outside, the stars and colourful nebula illuminating everything. It was a perfect day on Asgard, and others would certainly be out and around, enjoying the day.

It suddenly occurred to Loki that this was the first time he'd been outside in months.

Brushing the thought aside, he headed for the weapons vault; keeping to back alleys and behind buildings to stay out of sight. Unfortunately, the vault was located right next to the palace, which was no doubt swarming with guards.

It would be a challenge, but not an impossible one.

For the next half of an hour, Loki slowly made his way through Asgard, keeping to shadows and staying completely out of sight. Just as he reached the palace and the vault, he stopped; two Asgardians were currently guarding the entry.

Loki cursed quietly, although he didn't expect the entry to the vault would be unwatched. Trying to think of a plan to get in, he overheard the conversation between the two guards.

"I did not know the Cybertronians had the knowledge to create such weapons," The first guard said to the other, rather casually.

"Neither did I," The other guard replied. "But it worked, did it not? Less than two weeks have passed and the Decepticons have complete control of Midgard."

Loki froze.

_"Impossible,"_ He thought. There was no way any alien species could take over Midgard, not when he'd failed doing so himself. Even the Cybertronians, with all their military might and advanced technology, couldn't have. Loki was unconvinced; it had to be a rumour.

Even if he didn't believe it, Loki still wondered what kind of weapon could bring an entire realm to its knees in a matter of days.

"We have to go," The first guard said, shaking Loki out of his thoughts. "The meeting will start soon." The other guard nodded and the two left.

Leaving the door to the weapons vault unguarded.

_"What in the name of the valkyries is this?!"_ Loki thought, becoming oddly frustrated. Did they want him to escape? They were making his escape effortless.

_"It _is_ a trap,"_ He thought suddenly.

It made sense. Throughout his whole escape, there had been too much luck and coincidence along the way for it to be anything else. Loki looked around quickly, expecting a legion of guards to surround him any second now.

Without another thought, Loki dashed forward to the vault door. He had to get the sceptre. He had to escape.

He'd come too far to fail now.

He reached the door, which was made of heavy steel and had a heavy lock on the front. Before trying the keys, Loki thought he'd try his luck and see if the door was already unlocked.

It was. Pushing on the door, it swung open without any resistance. Loki paused for a brief moment, to look around at Asgard one last time before he fled to Midgard indefinitely.

It was only then Loki noticed the two ravens perched above the building, looking down at him intently.

Huginn and Muninn. The All Father's two watch birds; the ones that sent Odin all the information on anything that was happening.

Loki was really out of time now.

He expected them to fly off, and alert Odin to his escape. But instead, they just sat there, watching him.

A recent memory flashed in Loki's mind.

_There he was, in front of Asgard's court. He'd been ungagged, so he could speak for himself, but was still bound at his hands and feet, to prevent him from escaping. In front of him, sitting in the throne was Odin, with Thor and a distraught Frigga just behind him. _

_The noise in the building was loud. Hundreds of Asgardian's had attended the trial, wanting to see the Fallen Prince of Asgard finally pay for his crimes. He'd already been found guilty and convicted, and now he was just waiting for the sentence. In Asgard, there was only one punishment fitting for what he'd done._

_Execution._

_Loki knew this would be the punishment. He could hear the voices of the onlookers chattering among themselves, how they all thought that he'd be put to death._

_In all honesty, Loki didn't care anymore. He'd stopped caring the moment he let himself fall into the abyss after he failed to destroy Jotunheim. After that, there was no way he could ever be accepted back into Asgard, and he knew it. To make things worse, any day now The Other and the Chitauri's would starting looking for him; if they found him alive, Loki knew it wasn't going to be pleasant and it was never going to end._

_He had no home, no safe place; there was absolutely nowhere left in the universe he could go._

_At that moment, the All Father stood and the crowd went quiet. Odin looked down at Loki, a sombre expression on his face._

_"Do you have anything left to say before you're sentenced?" Odin asked, quietly._

_Loki didn't respond. There was no point. Even if he used his intelligence and wit to speak his way out of a death sentence, he'd still be punished; most likely banished._

_If he got banished to Midgard or Jotunheim, he'd be captured and most likely killed by the inhabitants of the planet. If he got cast out to anywhere else, then The Other would find him, and torture him._

_There was no way he could come out of this alive._

_The All father looked at Loki, conflicted._

_"Nothing?" Odin said. Loki just shook his head. "Very well. For your crimes against Midgard and Jotunheim, disturbing the peace we had with them, I sentence you to imprisonment in Asgard."_

_The crowd erupted with angry mutterings. Loki ignored them, instead looking in surprise at Odin._

_"In extension," Odin shouted at the crowd, making them once again quiet. "Your magical abilities will be blocked." Suddenly, Loki felt lightheaded and drained, as if his life-force itself had been taken away._

_No._

_His magic was all he had. And now even that was gone._

_Odin stepped down and quietly talked to Loki, so that only he could hear._

_"You have an incredible gift, one that few have and even fewer can control. You will get your powers back, when you prove you are worthy to possess such power. That chance will come soon."_

_Without saying anything else, Odin stood up and ordered the guards to take Loki away._

Loki snapped out of the memory, and had a revelation.

Odin was letting him escape.

He had to be. All the coincidences; the guards not noticing the missing keys, the doors being left open, there was no other explanation.

But why was he doing it? Did he think that he would change while spending time in Midgard, just as Thor had? Loki laughed at the idea, of him working with mortals, or even protecting them, like Thor.

_"If he honestly thinks it'll change me, then he is a fool."_ Loki thought.

Not wasting any more time, Loki entered the weapons vault, and looked around. It was mostly full of standard Asgardian weapons; swords, bows and battle hammers, all decorated with intricate patterns. Towards the back of the vault, more interesting things were found; ancient weapons from races that the Asgardians had defeated in battle centuries ago. Eventually, hidden away, Loki found the Chitauri sceptre.

It was a little dusty, but the gold it was made of still glistened. It called to him, and without hesitating he picked it up. Once again he felt magic flowing through his blood, empowering him. Without waiting, he casted the teleportation spell to Midgard. He watched as the weapons vault around him disappeared, replaced by a swirling blue vortex that transported him through space.

But something was wrong.

The Chitauri sceptre wasn't working properly, and soon the blue vortex began to twist and warp, tearing apart. The pain it was causing to Loki was agonising; it felt like he was being ripped apart from the core.

Cutting off the spell as a reflex, Loki fell down, hitting his head hard against the ground and blacking out.

0-0-0-0-0-0

Loki slowly regained consciousness.

His head was aching, and he felt faint and lightheaded. Trying to stand up, he very ungracefully fell back down to his knees as a wave of dizziness overtook him. Deciding instead to try and figure out where he was, he looked around at the landscape.

He was definitely in one of Midgard's cities. It was early in the morning, the sun starting to rise over the horizon, which was dotted with tall buildings made of concrete and steel. There were no trees or wildlife to be seen, and the roads were covered in the machines humans travelled around in.

But strangely, there were no Midgardians.

As he gradually regained his senses, Loki realised that the city had been abandoned. Standing up, rather tentatively, on his feet, Loki began to explore. As he took a step, he heard a crunching sound under his feet. Looking down, Loki saw the Chitauri sceptre, broken into hundreds of pieces. Realising that it must have broken during the failed teleportation spell, Loki cursed; he was now stranded in Midgard without any magic abilities.

Without much other choice, Loki set off, exploring the city. It couldn't have been abandoned long, but already it was starting to look desolate. Windows to buildings were smashed, and the power source they had been running the place was obviously beginning to run out. He walked down the footpaths, pausing when he saw a very odd sight.

There was a small group of creatures, perhaps five of them, dragging something out from an alleyway between two buildings. Dropping whatever it was they were moving onto the ground, they hissed and snarled at each other, before stopping and beginning to _eat_ it.

Cautiously moving forwards, Loki tried to get a better view of the creatures. They had pale green skin, which was covered in swollen red sores. The clothes they were torn and their hair messy. Apart from that though, they were human.

_"Strange. Some kind of trance has overtaken them,"_ Loki thought, curiously. _"Let's see how they react."_

Wanting to get a closer look at the odd humans, Loki called out, trying to get their attention. They turned to him, and for the first time he realised how bloodshot their eyes were. As they stood up and began to inch towards him, Loki saw what they had been eating.

Or rather who.

It was the female agent who had worked on the flying fortress beside their leader Fury. There wasn't much left of her now; she was missing a leg and most of her insides were either gone or spread across the concrete, in a messy and horrific array of red.

Loki froze in horror.

He knew humans were miserable creatures, but this...this was something else. This was disturbing and wrong on so many levels.

Loki didn't have much time to think about the situation though, because the monsters had sprung up and were sprinting towards him. Without a moment's hesitation, Loki turned tail and ran, hoping to outrun the creatures.

But they were fast.

They were right behind him, their mouths still bloody from their feed. Not looking where he was going, Loki ran around a corner at full speed.

In his panic, he didn't see the human machine known as a car reversing out until it was too late.

It hit him full force, sending flying back and smacking his head against the hard and unforgiving ground.

For the second time that unfortunate morning, Loki blacked out.

* * *

**AN: Today is not your day, is it Loki?**

**Thanks once again to my wonderful Beta readers Tanya Meridia and Baylee Shadows.**

**Anyway, thank you for reading, and please review. It really makes me write faster.**

**~ObsydianDreamer**


	6. Alliance

AN: Slight mentions of blood and gore. But this is a fic with flesh-eating zombie monsters, what are you expecting?

Disclaimer: I do not own Marvel or the Avengers.

**Chapter Six: Alliance**

By ObsydianDreamer

* * *

{Darcy}

_Beep! Beep! Beep!_

Darcy was startled awake by the sound of her phone's alarm going off, the shrill noise piercing through the inside of the car. Instantly alert, she fumbled around in the near-dark for the source of the noise, her poor eyesight not helping matters. Finally, reaching over to the seat next to her, she managed to wrap her fingers around the device, silencing it before it could make any more noise.

Sitting straight back up, she looked out the windows at the area around, her eyes darting frantically in all directions to ensure it was safe and that nothing else had heard the alarm. She doubted that anything would have, but it was always better to be safe than sorry.

The coast was clear. Relaxing a little, she leaned back against the seat and put on her glasses, before watching the sun rise. It was still the same sun that rose over New York City every day, but that morning it seemed slightly more exquisite. The rays, which were just starting to peek over the horizon, painted the early morning sky in gold and orange.

Darcy smiled. The sun still rose every day, without fail, even when the entirety of human civilisation on the continent had gone to hell.

There was no other way to describe it. It was just like all those cheesy cliché horror movies Darcy used to watch; the aliens attacked with their weird metal pod things, and only hours after, people became really sick.

Not long after that, they became violent, bloodthirsty and just a little bit scary.

Okay, _really_ scary.

They had become, for all intents and purposes, zombies. Really, Darcy could think of a better way to describe them; they were exactly like the creepy, half-dead monsters she'd seen in countless movies and TV shows.

But it wasn't the zombies themselves that were the worst part. Darcy knew she could deal with them easily; a well aimed shot to the head and they that was that. No, the worst part was the sheer emptiness of the surrounds.

The city looked like it had been totally abandoned. Cars of all makes and models lay deserted in street, some with their doors left open. Houses and buildings still stood, but many had windows broken and some had been looted. Everywhere she went had an eerie feel to it; making her feel vulnerable and paranoid, always checking behind her back.

She wished she had a partner. It would make everything so much easier; she wouldn't have to worry about the zombies getting her while she slept, or when she gathered supplies.

But most of all, Darcy just wanted someone to talk to. She hadn't talked to someone since the virus broke out; it was very possible that she was the last person left uninfected in the whole city. She'd spent the first week looking for survivors in the city, but eventually, she'd given up; the large number of zombies making it too dangerous to continue searching.

Darcy absentmindedly wondered what the centre of New York looked like. She had only been on the outskirts of the city, the sheer number of the infected making it impossible to travel in any further. Millions of people had called this city home; with so many living in such close proximity, the virus had infected everyone in a matter of days, quickly overrunning the quarantines and defences. Whoever had managed to avoid the initial outbreak didn't survive long; with the incredible number of zombies swarming around the city, they either became infected themselves or got eaten.

Because of the constant danger of living in a place populated solely by flesh-eating monsters, Darcy had made the decision to leave.

That was the plan for the morning. She would get the last of the supplies she needed, before heading out south west. Her aunt owned a farm out that way; it was located in the middle of nowhere, miles away from any of the big cities that the aliens had targeted.

If anywhere was going to be safe, it was there.

Feeling confident in her plan, Darcy gazed over her shoulder into the back of her four-wheeled drive. The trunk was acting as the storeroom, filled with food that she'd managed to come across and ammunitions. However, there wasn't enough to make the trip, yet alone sufficient to support herself as she waited out the virus at the farm.

Her eyes skimmed over to the backseat, where even fewer items lay. She didn't have much time to grab her possessions once the virus had broken out; instead, she just took the most important ones. She managed to take her SHIELD handgun; the one she received when she'd become employed by the agency after Thor and everything that had happened in New Mexico. She'd also managed to grab her taser, but that was a given; she never went anywhere without it.

In addition, Darcy had also taken her most prized possession: a mythology book. It was old, a green, leather bound book given to her as a gift from her grandmother many years before. Even more so, Thor had gone through it, carefully editing the text, adding notes about Asgard and the Nine Realms from his own experience.

She hoped that after everything that had transpired in the past two weeks, Thor was still okay. Darcy hadn't heard anything about the Avengers since the outbreak had occurred, apart from hearing that they'd been split up, and sent across the country.

_"Whose dumb idea was that?"_ Darcy thought. The Avengers worked much better together as a team than any one of them could work alone._ "Anyway, I'm sure he's fine. They're probably all fine. If anyone can survive in a post-apocalyptic zombie world, it's the Avengers."_

Not allowing herself to become too distracted, Darcy turned her attention back to her own predicament. The zombies seemed to be least active around dawn, so she had to get moving soon. Without wasting any more time, Darcy started up the car and drove down the road, trying to avoid obstacles and stay as quiet as possible.

A few minutes later, she arrived at her destination. She'd managed to find a small supermarket; one that looked like it hadn't been too badly looted or damaged. After doing a quick scout around to make sure there were no large groups of the infected nearby, Darcy parked the four wheel drive right next to the store, before readying her weapons.

After loading the handgun and ensuring she had extra ammo clips in her pockets, Darcy carefully opened the door and stepped out of the car. Making as little noise as possible, she crept over to the door of the supermarket and opened it.

The door gave a loud creak. Stopping for a moment, Darcy scanned the surrounds, hoping that none of the infected had heard.

She waited, but nothing came. Gun ready and loaded in her hand, she entered the store.

Inside, the place looked dilapidated. Shelves had been knocked over, spilling produce everywhere. The building had also obviously been without power for some time; the lights weren't turning on, and the freezer section had well and truly melted, leaving puddles around on the floor.

There was also the strong smell of something rotting in the air, which Darcy sincerely hoped was coming from the decomposing fruits and meat, and not from something else.

Making her way around the store, Darcy took everything she thought she'd need for the journey. Canned food, bottled water, and she'd even managed to procure a blanket and some first aid supplies. Dumping everything into the back seat, she contemplated making another trip back into the store when she heard something.

In the distance, not very far away, she could hear snarling. Not wasting any time, she climbed into her car, quickly locking the doors and waiting to see if it was safe.

The snarling continued. The zombie-people were definitely on the move, and they were coming her way. Without another thought, she put the key in the ignition, turning on the car, and sped out in reverse, not looking back.

_THUD!_

The sudden noise spooked Darcy, and she hit the brakes, causing them to squeal, bringing the car to a rapid stop.

She'd hit something. That, Darcy was entirely sure of.

Adjusting the rear-view mirrors to see what she'd managed to run down, she was shocked. There, lying on the ground, unconscious, was a man in green clothing.

And he wasn't infected. He had none of the tell tale signs of infection; no pale green skin, or bleeding sores.

He was a survivor, just like her.

He was possibly the only other survivor in the entire city, and _she'd just hit him with her car_.

And this time, it would legally be her fault.

Grabbing the gun on the seat next to her, she left the car and took a few steps forward. She needed to help him, but she needed to be careful herself. The zombies she'd heard earlier were probably after him, and they couldn't be far away.

Peering around the corner of the building, she saw them. A pack of about five, with furious red eyes and green skin, closing the distance between themselves and the man. Taking careful aim from her hiding spot, Darcy fired at them, sending them dead to the ground. She'd managed to get three of them before the other two figured out where she was. Turning their full attention to her, they ran straight for her, growling angrily at her.

Trying not to panic, Darcy continued to fire. She reminded herself that they weren't people, that they were monsters, and that if she didn't kill them, then they would certainly kill her. Continuing to fire at them, she managed to kill one with a lucky headshot.

The last one however was proving a challenge. It advanced toward her, so close now that she could see its creepy red eyes and green rotting skin. It tried swiping at her as it got closer, and Darcy jumped back, her heart pounding in her chest.

She kept firing at it, hitting it in the chest and thigh, sending it down to the ground. But it kept going, crawling its way along the ground, leaving a dark blood trail behind it. Taking one more step back, Darcy aimed her gun at its head and fired, splattering the rotting contents of its skull all across the pavement.

Turning away from the gruesome sight in front of her, Darcy went to check on the man. She had to move quickly; the gunshot sounds would have alerted other zombies nearby. She briskly walked over to the man, kneeling next to him as she checked his pulse to see if he was still alive.

Darcy had to admit that he was attractive. He was rather tall, but lightly built, with slightly messy jet black hair and a pale complexion. On closer inspection, Darcy also noticed that the clothes he was wearing were completely strange and out of this world. He was covered from head to toe in some kind of green leather armour, trimmed with metallic edges that sported intricate carved patterns.

_"Heh. It kinda looks like the armour the Asgardians wear..."_ Darcy thought, her mind reeling as she came to a realisation. _"Oh no...It can't be..."_

The person wasn't human at all; they were an Asgardian. Trying to figure out who they were, Darcy looked again at the patterns on the armour.

Most of the symbols Darcy hadn't seen before, but there was one she could identify. It meant _Prince of Asgard_, and it adorned Thor's armour as well.

Asgard had two Princes. Thor and –

Darcy scrambled back from the unconscious Asgardian, suddenly recognising exactly who it was.

_Loki._

She couldn't believe it.

She'd run down Loki, Thor's brother and the freaking god of mischief and lies.

What was the Norse god of mischief and lies even doing on Earth? Thor had said that Loki had been imprisoned in Asgard for his crimes, having nearly succeeded in destroying Jotunheim and taking over the Earth.

_"He must've escaped or something,"_ Darcy thought._ "Hmm. What do I do now?"_

She couldn't just leave him here; the infected would get him before he could wake up. On the other hand, Darcy wasn't sure if taking him with her was the right idea either. He was an incredibly powerful being, who was somewhat mentally unhinged, potentially dangerous and had a track record of not taking well to mortals.

_"I'm damned if I do, and damned if I don't,"_ Darcy thought, knowing that she'd have to make a decision quickly; the infected would not be far away. _"What do I do?"_

0-0-0-0-0-0

[Loki]

Loki's head spun painfully as he regained consciousness. It was much worse than the first time he'd woken up like his; not only did he have a pounding headache, but this time he also felt rather nauseous and very disorientated, with the rest of his body feeling quite sore as well.

He tried to remember what had happened that put him in his state. Thinking back, he remembered teleporting to Midgard, finding the monstrous humans that fed on the flesh of their own, and fleeing from them when they chased after him.

Everything after that was blank. He had no idea where he was, or how much time had passed.

Realising the danger he could be in, Loki snapped open his eyes and tried to move. However, his left arm was restrained by something, and his vision was blurred to the point of being unable to see almost anything. Fumbling around, he tried to find whatever was pinning down his arm when he heard a voice.

"Don't panic," The voice said. It sounded feminine, but distant, as if it was underwater. "You're safe here."

He couldn't trust the voice. It could belong to a potential ally, but the chances of it belonging to an enemy were much higher. Not wasting any time, he pulled on his arm, trying to free it.

"Don't do that," The voice spoke again, softer and more reassuring, but still distant and this time a little distorted. "You'll only make yourself feel worse..."

The voice was right. Suddenly, Loki was overcome with a sickening pang of dizziness that made him feel like he was spinning and caused his stomach to churn.

With little other option, he let darkness overtake him and he slipped again into unconsciousness.

0-0-0-0-0-0

Loki was a lot more careful the second time he woke up.

Rather than trying to leave straight away, he waited, allowing himself time to recover from his injuries and assess the situation.

All the while, he kept his eyes shut and continued pretending to be unconscious.

From what information he'd managed to gather, he was fairly certain that there was only one person holding him captive, and that he was inside one of the metal transport machines that the midgardians often used. A thin rope was tied around his left arm, chaining him to something heavy, and although he could tell it was done by an amateur, it was still too strong for him to just break out of. His right arm was still free though.

With this new information in mind, Loki waited patiently for the midgardian transport machine to stop moving so he could put his plan into motion.

As he felt the machine rumble to a halt, he braced himself, ready to attack. A few moments later, he heard a quiet voice.

"I don't know if you're awake, but if you are, please know that I'm not going to hurt you," It was the same voice he'd heard before, he was sure.

Loki assessed the situation in his head. He couldn't know for sure if the voice was telling the truth, although it did sound sincere, but it was definitely only a single midgardian holding him captive. He might have been one of the physically weakest on Asgard, but he could easily take down a single midgardian. Plus, he could get information off the mortal, and a servant could be useful, provided it wasn't savage like the ones he'd encountered earlier.

Slowly, he opened his eyes and looked at the Midgardian. They were female, with long, dark brown hair that was slightly curled. Her vision must have been impaired, since she was wearing the so called "glasses" that some midgardians used. Her expression showed that she was somewhat scared, but also curious.

"Tell me, mortal," Loki said, putting emphasis on the word _mortal_. "Where am I, and why has your already pitiful and unintelligent species turned upon itself?"

The midgardian woman edged forward slightly before speaking. "You're inside my car. I found you, um, unconscious on the road..."

He could tell by the hesitance and uneasiness in her voice that she was only telling a half-truth. Nevertheless, he let the female continue with her tale.

"As for my _'species turning upon itself'_, that's because of the virus."

The midgardian was providing more questions than answers. "A virus?"

"Yeah. I know more than most people, since I worked for SHIELD before it happened," The midgardian began to explain. "About two weeks ago, some robotic aliens released a virus in an attempt to take over. It worked, and everyone who got infected mutated into the flesh-eating crazy people you met earlier."

"How unfortunate." He said, his voice taut and sarcastic. The fact that someone else had managed to succeed where he had failed with the Chitauri invasion, and so soon after, infuriated him to no end. The midgardian, meanwhile, looked completely unimpressed by his comment, a scowl gracing her face.

Not caring about the midgardian, he looked out the window of the transport machine. It was dusk, the sun having just dipped below the horizon.

He'd been out far longer than he realised. Shifting across to the door, he went to leave, when he was stopped by the voice of the midgardian.

"Are you sure that's a good idea?" She said, rather nonchalantly. "They're most active at night, and usually feed around dusk."

"I'm quite sure I can easily deal with a few sickly members of your species." Loki snapped back, his already short patience thinning.

"Without getting bitten or scratched?"

"Effortlessly. But I fail to see how that's important."

"Oh, no reason. But before you go, I should mention that they're _really_ contagious. When someone gets bitten or scratched by one of the infected, they turn into one of them too."

Loki stopped and thought for a moment. The new information was unsettling, and while it was likely that the illness could only be passed to humans, he did not want to take the chance.

This whole situation was proving to be far more difficult and problematic than he had ever anticipated.

"Perhaps leaving isn't the best course of action." Loki muttered, after a while.

"Perhaps not," The midgardian replied. A little quieter, she added. "Looks like we're stuck in this together."

Loki sighed. As much as he absolutely loathed the idea of working with such a lowly creature, there wasn't much else he could do. Turning to face the midgardian, he spoke regally and introduced himself.

"I am Loki Son-of-None, true heir to both Jotunheim and Asgard."

The midgardian looked like she already knew.

"I'm just Darcy Lewis."

* * *

**AN: Thanks to Tanya Meridia for Beta reading. And also, thanks to all the great people who have reviewed, faved or followed so far. It really means a lot to me.**

**~ObsydianDreamer**


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